The Soul of Wintergard Will Bless Us
The soul of Wintergard will bless us. No matter how many hundreds of times we speak of the Wintergard family, one unchanging fact remains. They are the legitimate rulers of the North, the lineage that has inherited the very spirit of the North itself.
Is that why? In the northeast, that sacred space where the Wintergards are laid to rest. People flock there in droves, coming to pay their respects. And it was the same today. This was my first visit to the Wintergard graveyard since becoming Grand Duke.
"It's almost unprecedented."
"Was there some reason, my lord?"
"A reason? Well... maybe because I've been too swamped with ducal duties?"
"That makes sense. You've been incredibly busy."
The Grand Duke's workload was unexpectedly overwhelming. Sure, plenty of people helped out, but that didn't leave much time for lingering trips to the northeast. Truth be told, I was on pins and needles even now, unable to check if my ministers' tasks were running smoothly. At least when I'd gone south, there'd been a pretext. This time, there wasn't even that.
"Still, taking a break like this feels nice, doesn't it?"
"Too nice. For me."
"So why won't you just say it?"
"Say what?"
"Anything."
Daniela's pressure was intense. I'd sensed it a bit on the way back from the south to the north, but I still wasn't used to it, so I'd been fumbling my way through. What the hell had gone down with those duchesses' gatherings? I never should've tossed an innocent girl into that mom café mess.
"We could talk about it a hundred times and it still wouldn't be enough..."
"So, what is it?"
"Well... I love you, I like you. Stuff like that... um..."
"You've changed a lot lately."
"Changed how?"
We were wandering through the Wintergard tombs. The atmosphere wasn't particularly solemn, and people bustled about. I'd told my ministers and nobles to hold back on mentioning Wintergard, but I knew ordinary folk talked about it plenty. Stories of past Grand Dukes or the traitor Walter Wintergard were just too famous.
"You used to be like the typical Northerner."
"And what did you think Northerners were like?"
"Hm, well?"
Arm in arm with Daniela, we strolled slowly. We weren't doing the ritual prayers; it felt more like aimless wandering. But maybe this was what my ministers and nobles hoped for—our bond deepening. It already felt plenty deep, though.
"Prejudice about Northerners!"
"And you thought I was just like that?"
"Not exactly the same, but pretty similar?"
"Southerners are way too scared of the North. I don't get why."
"Of course it's scary. Everyone up here is bigger than Southerners."
"You say that to be funny?"
"Hehe... It's humor that lands with Southerners."
She really did come from that mom café vibe. Did she even know what "bigger" implied? I didn't want to spell it out, but I leaned close to her ear, lips brushing softly. Not for a kiss—just a whisper. Though I didn't need to get that close.
"'Bigger' doesn't mean that."
"Then what?"
"It means... that thing that's so important to a man is intimidatingly huge."
"...."
Daniela looked flustered, her face awkward. She clearly hadn't expected that. Dropping innuendo like that in the Wintergard graveyard? Bold move.
"Uh... um..."
"Those duchess gatherings worked wonders. You've got real Grand Duchess potential."
"D-don't tease!"
"Of course all Northerners are big. There, happy?"
"Ah, that's not what I meant!"
"But Wintergards are the biggest! Hahahaha!"
Who laughs that loud in a graveyard? Eyes turned our way, but as soon as they saw me chuckling, heads bowed. Rude not to.
"Anyway, where are we headed?"
"The previous Grand Duke's tomb."
"I-I mean..."
"Yeah, he would've been your father-in-law."
"It feels kinda..."
"It's fine. It's been ages for me—first time, really."
I'd never visited these graves before. Only for the initial burials and funerals. After the northeast plots were set, not once. I was too young then, and above all, too busy.
"But, my lord, there's something I've really wanted to ask."
"What?"
"Do you... truly have no other family?"
"Family?"
My mother and father had passed when I was young. And during Walter Wintergard's rebellion—the one that would never happen again in the North—he'd gone mad with a plan to control all Wintergards, leaving no survivors. The few who lived were under special oversight. They were doing fine, but family infighting had driven more than a few insane. That unease among my ministers and nobles stemmed from it: no true Wintergard heir if I died.
"There are some, but I've never thought of them as family."
"I see."
"It's politics. I've never acknowledged other Wintergards as kin."
Politics. They weren't even of my father's bloodline. And I couldn't call those who sided with Walter Wintergard family. Memories flashed by. It had been winter then, too, I think.
'Theo, Theo! Spare our lives at least!'
'Haven't you already lost the war? Where's that Wintergard spirit, Uncle?'
'I made a mistake! Just a bit of greed. Grand Duke of the North! Doesn't it tempt you too?'
'The duke's seat is decided by blood and merit.'
I must've said that. The traitors who'd rebelled with fervor to upend the North, dragging the family into fratricidal slaughter. Even after Walter's death, they fancied themselves the next great duke.
'If my mother and father could return, I'd spare you. Can you manage that?'
'Th-that...!'
'It's over. You're no longer Wintergards—just common folk in memory.'
But as a Wintergard myself, I couldn't help allowing graves nearby. They couldn't use the Wintergard name or crest, of course. Still, being buried in the family plot was something.
"I don't even want to think about it. Those times weren't pleasant enough to revisit."
"That's okay."
"Hm?"
"I'm a Wintergard now, aren't I?"
Right. A new Wintergard had emerged. Not by blood yet, but she would be.
"That's too good."
The words slipped out unbidden. Finally, someone else I could call Wintergard. My father's grave was impeccably maintained. The man most visited, who'd laid the foundation for the North's revival. Though that phrasing carried a bitter edge: the one who'd crushed traitor Walter Wintergard and elevated me to Grand Duke.
"Long time no see."
"Ah, hello."
Daniela followed my lead with a greeting. The tombstone said nothing. The dead don't speak. Worshippers kept their distance. No grand temple or towering structure—just a hill. Fitting for a Wintergard grave.
"Almost twenty years."
"Th-that's as long as I've been alive."
"Yeah. Haven't come since becoming duke. Maybe I should visit more."
I gazed misty-eyed at the stone. The massive Wintergard crest bore the deep inscription: Ardorno von Wintergard. Everyone knew it was my father's.
"Ah, this is Daniela, Dad. The woman who's going to be my wife."
Almost forgot the intro. Should've brought flowers.
"Ah, hello. I'm Daniela von Bart, future Grand Duchess."
"Dad didn't like formal talk like that."
"Pardon? Then how...?"
"He was too carefree for noble airs."
"Uh, um..."
"This is Daniela, my future wife. Pretty, right?"
"Uh, um... I'm Theodore's future wife..."
"He would've liked that better."
A strange feeling washed over me. Even years after my parents' passing. Even in a world that wasn't truly mine. This pain was hard to bear.
"Dad, I guess I've done okay as duke."
How hard I'd worked to make the North a better place. Maybe this was my fate.
"Now that I'm marrying, I'll wipe the family name clean for you and Mom."
"N-no need to..."
"Nah, it's fine. He'd be thrilled I've outgrown being a kid."
That should do it. I lingered on the stone a moment longer, then turned away. If I had one wish for the late Grand Duke and all Wintergards buried here: guide and aid me always.