Adelheid

Whenever I closed my eyes, I dreamed of those days—the happiest memories of my childhood.

I opened my eyes to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a voice from which ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠every trace of warmth had gone.

"……Your Grace?"

Indifferent eyes, cold and sunken, looked down at me. I lowered my head and spoke.

"I'm sorry, Your Grace. I nodded off."

"It's fine."

A perfunctory answer. That drowsy face nothing could stir, and a voice without rise or fall.

I hated it. Because it kept calling the brother of the past back up over him.

"If anything is uncomfortable…."

"The coachman said we'd reach the capital soon."

……Had he been minding my dignity? So I would not be seen asleep and unguarded in front of anyone else.

"……Thank you, Your Grace."

A month and a half had passed since that night at the encampment. There was so much I wanted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to ask him, so much I wanted to say, and through all that time I had managed to give him none of it. The words I could not speak circled in my mouth until they tasted bitter. I wanted to spit them out, but I was afraid of the reality I would have to face, and so I hid my mouth behind a book.

I lifted my head and looked up at his face. Red eyes the same as mine were turned to the view beyond the window, and I followed them.

Green fields streamed past the glass in a blur. The time we had been spending together inside the carriage was racing toward its end.

"……The capital is in sight. Over there."

I reached out and pointed to the capital's walls, just visible where they caught the edge of the horizon.

"So it is."

That indifferent answer sank straight through my chest.

"Once we arrive, the victory banquet is a week away…."

"Time will be tight."

"We set out from Nordberg. It can't be helped."

I asked him.

"Will Your Grace be wearing your uniform, as usual?"

"Most likely."

"……Then I will prepare a uniform as well."

I was gathering my courage to ask whether I was permitted to stand at his side. Whether I was worthy of it.

"As you like."

……Was that permission? No. Indifference, surely.

I stroked the sword hilt resting across my knees and spoke.

"……Shall I have a ceremonial sword prepared for you?"

"No. No need."

"If I might ask the reason……"

"I'm not going there to fight the imperial family."

"……Pardon?"

At that single sentence my body flinched before I could stop it.

……A joke. Surely it was a joke.

While I sat alone, turning his ill-natured joke over and over, the carriage slowly lost speed and passed through the gate. Through the window, the capital's bustle filled my sight at a glance.

"It's been a while."

"It has…."

"This view as well. Four years?"

The last time I had come to the capital with him had been four years ago, too. I remembered my brother climbing into the carriage and refusing to be denied, insisting he would see me off as I returned to the Academy.

"……For me as well. It has been a long time since I came with Your Grace."

I watched the capital go by. A young boy delivering newspapers; carriages lined so thick that no one could have said whose was whose; a girl walking with her hand in her mother's; soldiers making their rounds to keep the peace. We passed them all.

"We've arrived."

The Nordberg mansion showed through the window. It was nothing to the Grand Ducal Castle of the north, but a vast garden befitting the house's rank came into view. The carriage stopped, and the coachman knocked.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Open it."

The moment the door opened, he leapt down from the carriage as if he had been waiting for it.

"Your Grace! If you jump down like that…!"

"Is there a problem?"

I stared blankly after his back as it drew away beside a middle-aged knight.

"Lady Adelheid. This way."

My personal maid, Annemarie, held out her hand. I took it, set my foot carefully on the step, climbed down from the carriage, and walked toward the mansion at her side.

"Lady Adelheid, did you manage any conversation with His Grace?"

"No. It's still a little hard…." I shook my head.

"What— even you have things that are hard?"

"……What exactly do you take me for?"

"What do I take you for! A Nordberg, obviously— eek!"

I pinched Annemarie's cheek and cut her off.

"Mari. What on earth do you think Nordberg is…."

"Ow ow ow ow, Lady Adelheid, it huuurts!"

When I let go, she rubbed her cheek and protested as if I had wronged her.

"No to violence! Nordberg, guarantee the North its freedom!"

"If you want freedom that badly, why not settle in the capital while we're here?"

"Should I? Honestly, Lady Adelheid, the North is far too cold. Let's live in the warm capital. Yes?"

Faced with Annemarie's harmless smile, I could not think of a thing to say.

"……I'll think about it."

She puffed her cheeks at me.

"Turning me down again. Hmph! Don't blame me if I freeze to death up north!"

"Couldn't you just live here?"

Annemarie's lips pushed out in a pout.

"What meaning does the capital have without you? It may be a little cold, but I like the North if I'm with you."

She drew me into her arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and I said to her,

"Keep this up and you'll grow old and die alone without ever marrying. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"Hmph… you aren't married either, Lady Adelheid!"

The cheek of it annoyed me, and I flicked a finger lightly against her forehead.

"Eek! That hurts! Are you really going to hit me one-sided like this?"

"If you want to hit me, hit me. I'll allow it."

Annemarie looked from her fist to me and back again, then loosened her hand and sighed.

"Forget it. I'd only hurt my own hand. Trust a Nordberg to be stupidly solid."

"……Want another?"

"No! You tyrant!"

Chattering with her as we walked through the mansion, I found we had reached my room before I knew it.

"Home!"

"It isn't your house."

"Ugh…. I lived here a long time too, you know? By now it counts."

I set my sword on the stand and took off my coat. Annemarie stared at the blade I had put down, then spoke.

"Now that I think of it, that sword. His Grace gave it to you as a birthday present four years ago, didn't he?"

"……He did. Why bring that up all of a sudden?"

"Well. For a while after you got it, you slept with it in your arms. I've seen plenty of people sleep hugging a doll, but you were the first I ever saw hugging a sword."

My face burned. I had held it while I slept, happy over the gift—but that was four years ago. Clearly four years ago.

"Why would you say that out of nowhere…."

"I just wondered if you hugged it and slept in front of His Grace today, too."

I was certain I had never told Annemarie that I had slept in the carriage.

"……Was it that obvious I'd been asleep?"

"No? You wouldn't notice unless you looked closely. But did you cry in your sleep again? The makeup around your eyes is a little smudged."

In a rush, I looked into the mirror. Just as she had said, the color around my eyes had faded a little.

"……I'm done for."

"It's all right. The knights won't notice."

"What if His Grace did…?"

Annemarie clutched her head in both hands as if she meant to wring an answer out of it, and then replied with a bright face.

"Wouldn't His Grace pretend not to notice, even if he knew? He's always been that way."

"……That's the problem."

His face rose in my mind, unmoved by any word. Cold, like a man who had lost his feelings.

If only there had been no hope left at all…. Every time I tried to let go of what I still expected from him, he showed me some small consideration in which the brother of the past kept showing through.

"Hmm…. This is difficult."

"……Sorry, Mari. I want to be alone right now."

"All right. Rest, Lady Adelheid."

Annemarie stepped out and peeked only her head back through the door to look at me. She clenched a fist and held it up.

At the sight of her, a bitter smile rose on my face before I knew it.

I picked up the report lying on the desk—the same report I had read through countless times on the journey. I read it down once more, and held a small wish against my chest: that someday he might praise me again with that warm smile.

A lavishly appointed salon in the capital. In one corner of it, ladies sat around a round table, chattering over the affairs of the day.

"Have you heard the rumor?" A sharp-featured noblewoman opened the talk.

"What rumor do you mean?" The loud-voiced lady asked it as if she had not grasped the situation in the least.

"Well. They say he is coming to this victory banquet."

"Ah, I heard that one too. A procession bearing Nordberg's crest entered the capital…."

"No. Surely not? That parricide?"

Parricide. At that single word the sharp-featured noblewoman looked around in a startled rush. Finding no one near, she let out a sigh of relief and scolded the woman who had spoken it, her voice gone small.

"Shh! Lower your voice. What if someone hears?"

"Ah! Sorry. Is it true?"

"Yes. They say he saw the ebony carriage coming into the capital…."

The cold-faced noblewoman who had been listening in silence spoke.

"……Is there no chance it was Lady Adelheid riding in it?"

"I would like to think so, but… a house that prizes discipline so highly doesn't seem likely to allow it."

Sighs broke from every side. A woman hiding her mouth behind a fan parted her lips.

"Heavens, how ominous. It won't be a storm of blood again, like that time?"

"Who could say it won't. When I think of what he did four years ago…."

Silence settled. Then, with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a deep sigh, a gentle-faced noblewoman spoke.

"And His Majesty the Emperor still has not returned…."

"You're telling me! I wonder if His Highness the Crown Prince even knows. Isn't it far too brazen?"

"……I hope it passes quietly this time."

Everyone with a mouth to speak condemned what he had done.

The parricide of Nordberg, drunk on power, who had cut down his own father. The traitor who had imprisoned the Emperor and brought the order of the Empire down in ruins. A butcher of men, who took his pleasure in blood and slaughter.

And yet, through the four years of his silence, not one of them had dared so much as take his name into their mouth.

The Empire's only Grand Duke.

The name of Keter von Nordberg.