For the Future of Soladin
When Lucy first stepped onto the stage, Joy had gazed at her with nothing but pure admiration.
It was the kind of breathtaking experience that rendered every flowery phrase she'd learned as a noble lady utterly useless, leaving only the simple word *beautiful* standing in its place — enough that Joy had forgotten all about the eyes around her and found herself dumbly tracking Lucy's every movement.
Even I, who'd seen the rehearsal beforehand, was left speechless. No need to even ask what everyone else must be feeling.
Hehe. Just knowing that the young lady in the dress I picked out for her would be burned into everyone's memory made me happy.
At that moment, all the effort of dressing her up in outfit after outfit to find the very best one felt worth it.
But Joy's happiness did not last long.
The moment Lucy, standing at the center of the stage, opened her mouth, Joy realized this gathering would be remembered by everyone for a very different reason.
Lady Alrn! What in the world does she think she's doing!
This is not a place for her to carry on like she does with us!
Every powerful noble in the kingdom is gathered here!
Even with Sir Benedict's enormous backing, there are limits to what one can get away with!
If it were the young lady of old, perhaps — but surely the young lady of today knows this better than anyone. So why, why on earth!
"Why is everyone making such sour faces? I didn't say anything that isn't true. Oh — did I state the facts a little too forcefully and hurt your feelings?~ My, my sincere apologies~"
"I heard she'd changed. Clearly not."
"So Lucy Alrn is Lucy Alrn after all."
"So *that* child is someday to inherit House Alrn."
Watching her friend's reputation crumble in real time, Joy screamed inwardly.
No! I don't know what the old Lady Alrn was like, but the Lady Alrn of today is a good person!
She's someone who would gladly throw away her own life for the sake of another!
She can be mischievous, yes, but she knows how to be considerate, and she can brush off insults hurled at her without batting an eye!
You people who know nothing about Lady Alrn have no right to judge her based on one side of her!
Yet even as she thought this, Joy knew, in another part of herself, that there was nothing to say in their defense.
Among nobles, even a single misstep at a chance encounter could count against you — so the wreckage she'd wrought before an assembly of the realm's most powerful was surely more than enough material to define a person.
"Whaaat's the matter? Don't you like what I'm saying? Fuhahat! But you see, it's the Academy's losers who put me up here, y'know? This place is stuffed to the brim with people weaker and dumber than this itty-bitty little girl, and when a scrub can't afford to lose, what's a girl supposed to do?"
"Th-that... damn brat."
"Hey. Look around you."
"If only it were just the people near us..."
When Joy saw the expressions of the young ladies around her souring as well, she pressed her fan against her lips and bit down gently.
This is the worst. Every time Lady Alrn opens her mouth, people are remembering the lady of the past.
If we leave it like this, no one will believe she's changed at all.
People don't change, they'll say.
A degenerate with talent is still a degenerate, they'll say.
"A disgrace to House Alrn."
At the words whispering past her ear, Joy whipped her head around to find a young lady gone pale as death, a hand clapped over her mouth — and Joy clenched her teeth.
Joy knew.
She knew that once things had flowed this far, there was no patching them up in any fashion.
That once the wreckage had been wrought, there was no going back to before.
Joy knew.
She knew that the moment she stepped forward here, she too would become a target of blame.
That the murmurs of censure creeping up around her would only grow louder.
That when she crossed paths with other factions in high society someday, this very moment would be where their condemnation began.
Joy knew.
She knew that by any ordinary noble's logic, the right thing to do was to stay out of it.
That stepping forward with no justification to stand on would accomplish nothing at all.
"Puhhuht"
And then Joy's eyes met Lucy's, laughing up on the stage.
Amid the swelling chorus of discontent. Amid the condemnations spitting out from every corner of the hall.
Joy stared blankly at her friend.
And lowered the fan that had been hiding her face.
Joy, the young lady of House Patran, had striven since long ago to be worthy of her station as a duke's daughter.
No one had ever ordered her to.
Because House Patran had an eldest son to carry on the line, the Duke and Duchess had told Joy to pursue whatever her heart desired — so her effort to become a noble among nobles had been, from beginning to end, her own choice.
'Truly worthy of House Patran.'
Because she couldn't bear to betray the expectations of others.
'How is it that you carry yourself with such grace?'
Because she was terrified of the contempt that would frost over the eyes around her.
'You're so dependable.'
Because she felt that if she failed to become the young lady everyone wanted, she would end up utterly alone.
So Joy had worked to be a proper duke's daughter.
She had hidden her love of all things sweet and delicious.
She had erased the girl who yearned for the kind of friendships she read about in novels.
She had suppressed the emotional heart of any ordinary girl her age.
She had lived this way because she believed it was right.
But that had stopped being true the day she met Lucy.
Lucy had called the Joy that everyone found so difficult "the Airhead Lady" and laughed.
She had treated Joy not as the Duke's daughter, but simply as a friend.
She had shown her that there was no need to hide herself just to keep from being alone.
That's right. Who cares about high society?
What does it matter how the young ladies around me see me?
Why on earth should I worry about how other nobles judge me?
No matter what happens, I am Joy Partran.
A duke's daughter of House Patran.
The person who is a thorn in the side of so many young ladies.
The fool who gets teased as an airhead by the people closest to her.
A mage of such talent that a professor at the Academy heaped praise upon her.
And Lucy's friend.
"Lady Partran?"
The instant Joy took a single step forward, a young lady from a count's family beside her spoke her name.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Surely you're not about to take Lady Alrn's side again?"
"You must not, my lady."
"Lady Partran. Kindly remember that you are the heart of our faction."
"My lady, please."
One young lady after another hurled this and that at her, but not a single word reached Joy's ears.
Instead, baring the ferocious smile that her fan usually concealed, she said to them all:
"Shut up."
Words the Joy of any other day would never have spoken.
Words that anyone who heard them could only take as an insult.
Words that would have set any gathering of young ladies blushing with outrage.
Yet not one of them dared say a thing to Joy.
For the coldness that hung about her was so merciless that anyone who dared set foot inside it would have frozen solid on the spot.
Shaking off the hands that tried to hold her back, Joy walked down the path that parted open before her as if by nature itself.
...What do I do?!
Yes, I acted in a rush of emotion — fine, that's done and dusted, but what am I supposed to do now!?
Of course I don't regret what I did!
I did what needed doing!
And it felt great!
Whatever those ladies say about me later, I have every confidence I can look them in the eye and ask, so what?
But! Not a single idea for cleaning up this situation is coming to me!
AAAGH! Stupid me!
Could you not think before you do something for ONCE?!
This is exactly why you're the Airhead Lady, and not Lady Alrn or His Highness the Third Prince!
"Joy."
Still screaming internally as she made her way toward the stage, Joy's eyes went wide at the face that appeared beside her — Jeff, there before she knew it.
"Brother."
"Do you have some kind of plan right now?"
Joy couldn't answer, and her mouth just opened and closed.
"Figured as much."
"Brother. What do I do?"
"Don't worry. You've already done your part."
"...Pardon?"
"You made your will known to the head of our house. That's more than enough."
It did not take Joy long to understand what he meant: that it was all right for her to take a step back now.
"Fuhahaha!"
At the great laugh that filled the hall, every head turned.
The master of House Patran, reckoned the first among the six ducal houses.
One of the kingdom's most powerful figures, trailed by a reputation for ruthlessness.
One of the precious few who could raise his voice with perfect confidence even before an assembly of countless nobles.
Even with every eye in the hall fixed upon him, the Duke of Patran let his hearty laughter ring out before continuing.
"My, my. Forgive me. Seeing the young lady's bold bearing simply delighted me."
At the Duke's words, murmurs rippled through the hall.
For Lucy's behavior moments ago had looked, from any angle, far closer to insolence than boldness.
But neither the Duke of Patran nor Lucy Alrn paid the smallest gossip any mind.
"Lady Alrn?"
"What is it, Careless Duke?"
"Fuhfuhu. So you call me the Careless Duke even here? How kind of you."
At the sight of the two conversing, the nobles in the hall sucked in their breath.
They were aghast — at Lucy Alrn so brazenly insulting the Duke of Patran as *Careless*, and at the Duke laughing in evident delight even as he took the insult.
"So let me offer you one piece of counsel. I understand you were disappointed in schoolmates who fall short of you — but you must not let that sentiment show itself on your face."
"...Is it wrong to call losers losers?"
"In essence, the semester-end address is directed at the students, so talk of that degree is within bounds. But those gathered here tonight are not students alone. Look around you. Do you not see countless stars you have yet to surpass?"
With that, the Duke of Patran used his magic to move to a position behind Lucy.
"First, the First Queen. One of the finest knight-ladies in the history of Soladin, a great soul who brought peace to the kingdom. The tale of how the Royal Guard wept aloud for months when she was chosen as queen is a famous one."
The First Queen, subject of the story, glanced sidelong at the Duke and gave a smiling snort.
"Months is quite the exaggeration. At most, it was a month."
"Only because it was in Her Majesty's presence, of course. Elsewhere, the wailing went on and on."
"Oh my. Sikel, is that true?"
"You are not the only one, Your Majesty. Even now, the vice-commander of the guard still raises a toast to your valor at every drinking table."
"Truly? I hadn't the faintest idea."
Following on the First Queen's laughter at her escort's words, the Duke spoke again.
"And what of the Second Queen? There was a time when your prowess was the terror of Academy students everywhere."
"Duke. You *are* offering compliments, yes?"
"Haha! This one knows full well the comfort of the days when the flag of House Bedford flew overhead! How could it be anything but praise?"
"Honestly."
When even the Second Queen let out a soft laugh, the mood in the party hall began, little by little, to thaw.
"There is also Count Kent, the very pride of Soladin's swordsmanship. In his prime, he was the only soul alive who could trade blades with your father and hold the line."
"I would say the truth of it is less 'held the line' and more 'clung on for dear life,' but."
"Heh heh! What modesty! Ah — I could hardly leave out our Duke Loohten either! You should have seen how dumbfounded he was when that boy of his shattered a boulder hurled by the Giant with a single hammer swing!"
"What century of a story are you telling?"
"The story of when you got smacked by the rubble, tumbled down, and rolled right off the castle wall!"
"How many times have I told you never to bring that up!"
One by one, the Duke of Patran called out the names of everyone attending the party, spinning tales of the feats each had wrought.
They were awe-inspiring achievements that drew gasps from all who heard them, delightful stories that set young and old alike laughing, secret tales that set people's imaginations alight.
When at last all of those stories had run their course, the Duke of Patran looked Lucy Alrn in the eye and continued.
"Lady Alrn. Your talent, like your father's before you, is a marvel. Given time to ripen, you will surely be called the finest on the continent. But that time is not now. You are still young, and still weak."
"Can you not deliver a message without going all the way around the barn? I do hate pointless circling, you know. Careless Duke."
"Keep your humility, future of Soladin. Let your talent rouse not envy, but admiration. Just as your father once did."
Lucy, who had been quietly watching the Duke, left the stage without saying a word.
It was an unmistakable discourtesy — but the Duke of Patran chuckled and let it pass, so no one saw fit to call it out.
"Your Majesty the First Queen. On behalf of Soladin's clumsy future, would you grant us a toast?"
"I suppose I have no choice. Now then, everyone — raise your glasses. To the future of Soladin!"
"To the future of Soladin!"
The party hall, which had come within a hair's breadth of drowning in condemnation and fury, now found its every corner filled instead with the pride of nobles.