A Pretend Tour #4
“It's been a while, Lady Helena.”
“Yes. I'm glad to see you looking as hale as ever, Lord Albert. It means Varkan County is still standing strong.”
“Haha. Flattering this old man from the very first word—I hardly know where to put myself.”
Albert Varkan, a man whose bearing suggested a lean, sharp-edged competence, welcomed Helena warmly into the reception room.
The mansion, wrapped in pure white light, looked like a castle from a fairy tale, and the reception room where its master received guests was every bit as beautiful. In a word, it was noble to its core.
Helena took the count's hand and shook it, making a show of genuine pleasure at the reunion. They had met a few times before—at councils in the capital, at gatherings of their shared faction—so the warmth was only natural.
“And the Altram boy has grown quite a bit as well. Hardly recognize him.”
“Thank you. A good deal of time has passed; I suppose I've managed to grow a little.”
I fielded the sudden arrow of attention with practiced ease and bowed my head. His interest wasn't really in me—it was in Helena—so matching his words lightly was enough. Besides, I could hardly let my attention wander to anyone else while she was right there.
“I've already received word from His Grace. He asked that I allow Lady Helena to tour the territory at her leisure.”
“Yes. I feel rather guilty that Father imposed such a burden on you.”
“Burden? Hardly. The Krauser dukedom has always sent its heirs out on journeys to broaden their horizons, hasn't it? I'm well aware of the tradition, and more than that—His Grace made the request so courteously I was the one left feeling embarrassed.”
He conveyed how deeply sorry he was to have forced the duke to lower his head. A man of the duke's standing could have simply issued a single, thoughtless command and been obeyed. Krauser had not done so. Orders compel obedience, but true loyalty of the heart requires more than authority alone—and I suspected the count understood that perfectly. The Altram family's generations of service to Krauser sprang from the same soil.
“Really…! If you insist on being so humble, I'm the one who ends up ashamed. Whatever the reason, we are the ones imposing—and yet we've made the master of the house bow his head…”
“Impose? Nonsense. Simply having Lady Helena, the kingdom's sole Sword Master, set foot in our lands does wonders for morale. You should have seen how the soldiers and knights of my territory lit up with fighting spirit…”
The count waxed enthusiastic about the benefits her visit would bring. When the men who guarded the land saw their spirits rise, their bearing would change in turn—and that change would be nothing but good. Gaps in the defenses would close. Discipline would tighten another notch. And if fortune smiled, someone might even seize the rare chance to cross blades with Helena herself—calculations the count might well be making.
“Ah. How rude of me. I've kept guests who have only just arrived—and are surely tired—talking far too long.”
“Not at all. I enjoyed every moment. Please don't apologize.”
“Your kindness is appreciated. Then allow me to show you to your rooms first.”
The count clapped his hands lightly, and the study door swung open of its own accord—or rather, a maid waiting outside opened it. She was a woman of rather stern features.
“Show our guests to their rooms.”
“Understood. If the guests would be so good as to follow me.”
Helena and I bowed to the count in farewell and trailed after the maid down a long corridor. The mansion was, if anything, more lavish than the duke's own residence; it left the impression of a household that made money and knew how to display it. Flashing wealth to cow a negotiating partner seemed entirely possible. In fact, the place looked designed for exactly that. With trade so lively in this county, negotiations must be constant—and seizing the initiative through atmosphere alone would be invaluable.
“This will be Lady Helena Krauser's room, and the chamber next door is for Lord Zion Altram. Everything has been prepared; please make yourselves comfortable. Call if you need anything.”
The maid finished her polite farewell and withdrew. I went straight into Helena's room and surveyed it. We could hardly dump our luggage every which way, and taking stock of the furniture so I would know what went where was only sensible. Fortunately the wardrobe was clean and completely empty. I could arrange things much as I did at the Krauser estate.
“Being in someone else's house really does put you on edge, doesn't it?”
Helena flopped onto the bed at once and let out a long sigh. The elegant young lady of a moment ago had melted into a boneless sprawl. That much tension had been locked into her shoulders.
“Of course it does. They say the moment you leave home, hardship begins—though I wouldn't call this hardship by any stretch.”
“True, I don't think of it as hardship either. It's just… uncomfortable. That alone is tiring.”
“Fair enough. You have to be even more conscious of every gaze than usual. Exhausting is the least of it.”
I nodded as I folded the dresses and the rest of her clothes into neat stacks. Even within the same faction, you never knew what someone might be hiding. They could decide tomorrow that betrayal paid better. And if Helena's conduct hardened that decision, she could not afford to look careless.
“Mm. Even if Count Varkan follows Father loyally, that only means he follows Father.”
“Exactly. Since we can't see past that, feeling uneasy is only natural.”
“That's what I mean.”
While Helena sighed and rolled about on the bed, I finished packing and made to head for my own room. I had no intention of unpacking every last garment the way I had here, but the bag at least ought to go into the wardrobe. Far more convenient that way.
“Zion. Lap pillow.”
That plan died on the spot. At Helena's command I found myself planting my backside on the bed. She settled her head onto my thigh as if she had been waiting for exactly this moment, and any hope of escape grew even more remote. She had to know I meant to organize my own things—yet she still did this. She must have been thoroughly worn out.
“Honestly. You're nothing but a child.”
“That's right. I'm a child. So throwing a tantrum like this is perfectly natural, you know?”
Most people would have bristled at being called a child. Helena only grinned and used the remark as a springboard for more spoiling.
“You do know that when a child throws too much of a tantrum, they get punished, right?”
“Uh… huh…?”
She had not expected the counterattack. Helena looked up at me and froze solid as stone. For a moment she did not even seem to breathe; the stillness was almost uncanny.
After a beat she flushed scarlet, covered her face with both hands, and nodded as she spoke.
“If it's you, Zion… you can punish me.”
You can punish me. The words were nothing if not stimulating to the imagination. Ordinary corner-time was only the beginning; one could pull her trousers down and spank until her backside glowed bright red—or go far wilder than that. No: I was certain such things were possible.
Even so, I only poked her forehead lightly with a fingertip. If word ever got out that I had thoroughly humiliated her, the prestige of House Krauser would crash to the ground—that much was obvious.
“Ngh…!”
“Punish you, my foot. Be satisfied with this much.”
Helena lowered her hands and pouted, clearly put out by my dismissive tone. So I stroked her hair the way one soothes a sleeping child. Only then did she smile, eyes closing in contentment.
“Good heavens. Isn't this a little too lavish?”
A banquet of luxury built entirely from the freshest seafood awaited us. We had been told dinner was ready, so we went—and found a spread so extravagant it would put most great-house feast tables to shame. The scale was something you saw only at a full formal banquet.
And all of it prepared for a handful of nobles? The excess felt almost oppressive. Helena's eyes went round with the same thought as she asked the question, but the count merely laughed it off as a celebration of the duke's daughter's arrival. On top of that he politely begged us to eat, leaving refusal impossible. There had never been a real reason to refuse in the first place—yet somehow tonight's meal promised to be thoroughly uncomfortable.
“Haha. I don't set a table like this every day. Today is special, that is all. So please enjoy yourselves at ease. That will make me happy as well.”
“If you put it that way… I suppose I have no choice. Thank you for the meal.”
“Wonderful. Please do.”
Helena took the seat immediately after the count at the head of the table—positioned so she could face the count's son, who had arrived a little earlier. Ordinarily a retainer stood attendance while the master dined, but I had been given the farthest corner seat and sat there quiet as a mouse. Being known as Krauser's confidant had probably earned me that place.
“The cooks of House Varkan truly have remarkable skill. Every single dish is outstanding.”
“Haha! I'm honored by the praise!”
It might have sounded like polite flattery, but finding anything less than delicious was genuinely difficult. The seafood—brought in through trade and through the county's own fisheries—came in dazzling variety.
“Forgive the delayed greeting. I am Lloyd Varkan. I held off introducing myself so as not to interrupt the meal.”
“Lord Lloyd. I appreciate the consideration… but it seems I am the one who has inconvenienced you. My apologies.”
“Ah, not at all! It was never Lady Helena's fault!”
The golden-haired young nobleman—Lloyd—waved his hands in flustered denial. Helena dipping her head would have been enough to rattle anyone, yet that was not the whole of it. I had seen the heat in the way his eyes lingered on her.
As the meal wound down, conversation grew lively. The countess, who had sat quietly at Lloyd's side, began chattering, and the others chimed in to match her—altogether a pleasant enough sight.
“Ah, yes. Lady Helena, do you intend to begin your inspection of the territory tomorrow?”
Just when the atmosphere had fully ripened, the count asked after her schedule as though he had been waiting for the opening. A natural question from the man lending her rooms; Helena nodded without any particular change of expression.
“Yes, I expect so. I only glimpsed it from the carriage, but the place was positively overflowing with life. I'm quite looking forward to it.”
“Energetic people are my greatest pride. In that case, what would you say to letting my son serve as your guide?”
“Pardon…? Your son, my lord?”
Helena's eyes flew wide at the suggestion. Using a nobleman's son as a guide was startling in itself—yet on reflection it was hardly shocking. Escorting a duke's daughter was no small honor; the count's heir stepping forward would raise no eyebrows. And the man himself showed no reluctance. The chance to spend time with a woman like Helena was something he was clearly pleased about, if discreetly.
“I'm grateful for the offer, but I couldn't possibly impose to that extent. Touring with Zion alone will be more than enough.”
Helena kept her public mask firmly in place and declined with perfect courtesy. The look on her face said that refusing felt far more comfortable than accepting such an awkward kindness.
“No, no. Even for a short while, the chance to attend someone of Lady Helena's stature would be a great honor for me. Please, grant me the opportunity.”
“Ah, well…”
Lloyd made it plain he would not back down. His eyes sparkled as he pressed the offer. Caught off guard, Helena let her words trail off and then flicked a quick glance my way—asking what she ought to do.
What choice was there? We had to accept. Even if the man harbored ulterior motives, an outright refusal to his face risked wounding pride. He had wrapped the request in such an unassailable pretext that no clean escape remained.
So I gave a reluctant nod. This, too, was a form of cooperation from the count—and once Lloyd's guided tour was finished, we would have the perfect excuse to roam freely without an escort.
Helena could not have read every thought in my head, yet she seemed to grasp the situation by instinct. She answered with a small answering nod of her own, understanding that acceptance was the only real option left.
“Well… if you put it that strongly, further refusal would be impolite. I look forward to your guidance.”
In the end Helena smiled as though delighted and accepted the man's goodwill—yet the corner of her mouth was trembling, ever so slightly.